


The Sun is but a Morning Star

by OnlyOneWoman



Series: A Simple Man [19]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Canon Era, Canon has more or less committed suicide by now and I regret nothing, Crack Relationships, Crack Treated Seriously, Explicit Sexual Content, Foreplay, Healing, I never promised consistancy, In Nassau, Late at Night, Love, Lovers, M/M, Matelots, Memories, Not Canon Compliant, POV Alternating, Pain, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Pirates are getting a little better at feelings, Sorry Not Sorry, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Weakness, at all, because I keep ruining them, injuries, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:22:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21875107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnlyOneWoman/pseuds/OnlyOneWoman
Summary: Well, well, well... It took almost two weeks, but here is part 19 of the lowbones crackship and the longest so far. This time it's only Billy and Ned pov, I wanted to concentrate this part on the two of them.With all my love to you, E_A_Phoenix and to you as well, TuridTorkilsdottir. Raise the black for the lowbones crack ship and bring us the horizon!
Relationships: Billy Bones/Edward "Ned" Low, Ned Low/Eliza Marble (past)
Series: A Simple Man [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1530410
Kudos: 3





	The Sun is but a Morning Star

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rising_Phoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rising_Phoenix/gifts), [TuridTorkilsdottir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuridTorkilsdottir/gifts).



**Ned Low**  
The eye could betray him, or the scar. They’re connected too, parts of how people might reckognize him but this is Nassau, after all, Ned’s entire crew has been slaughtered and the girl who presents herself as a boy, is not one for gossip – other than as a listener.  
  
No one offers a hand when he’s reeling out of the jowl and he’s grateful for that. Gratitude is a new feeling to him and dressed in borrowed clothes including brown breeches, a kneelong coat and with a crutch for support and a patch over his eye, he’s stepping ashore with slow but determined steps, like Silver does with his pegleg and crutch. The sand is opening up under the crutch, shaking the balance for a moment but he makes it without falling or needing human support.  
  
“You’re alright?”  
  
His lover’s voice is low, almost drenched by the morning waves and Ned nods.  
  
“Aye.”  
  
He gets a pat on the shoulder that looks far more rough than it is. Billy is a gentle man in general when touching people, Ned has noticed during the time onboard. Not when it comes to battle or fights, of course, then he’s a terrifying demon of almost inhuman stature and Ned can’t help but finding that part considerably intriguing. He’s liked the display of war paint, blood and veins prominent under the skin over swelling muscles and like so many other pirates, Billy is easily thrown into lust after a successful battle.  
  
He’s always careful though. The crew might think he’s fucking Ned but the only thing that’s happened in that regard between them onboard, is Billy simply stroking himself and letting Ned watch without returning the favor. Ned isn’t sure why he’s not comfortable with being touched like that, because he wants to, it’s just that he can’t fucking relax enough. He still likes to see Billy’s cock, see the man fist himself in that huge palm and rub himself to climax while looking at him. He’s pretty sure his lover wouldn’t do it like that unless he had permission.  
  
“Steady on.”  
  
Billy murmurs and Ned realises he’s been stuck in thoughts, loosing attention to the sand. He keeps his one barely working eye to the ground. In the morning light its still too sensitive and has to be veiled, meaning he looks like the kind of man he’s once think of as an easy prey for robbery as a boy. He works his way across the unsteady ground, the pain in his bones and joints not getting worse really, but different without the ship taking his weight. He wouldn’t dream of complaining out loud though, especially not with Silver working his way across the sand with his pegleg and crutch like it’s nothing.  
  
Practise makes one skilled, Ned supposes, and he’s not showing anyone even a hint of how much the walk across the sand hurts with every step. He’s wearing a hat, something he never did as a Captain, his hair is tied back like he was a _civilized_ man and along with the patch that shields his blind eye from a sun it can’t see, it shadows the right side of his face well enough to possibly hide his true identity – whatever that is.  
  
There are no other physical traits to reckognize _Captain_ Ned Low by, not even the scornful smile. The Walrus hasn’t been a place where he’d had any use of that and Ned doesn’t know if that worries him or not. He’s made a great attempt at not thinking too much during these weeks at sea. Instead he’s tried to make himself useful as much as possible, not only to earn his place some, but to keep his mind from running wild when his feet have to walk so agonizingly slow.  
  
**Billy Bones**  
His brothers accept his lover. His matelot. Or, as Dr. Howell somewhat teasingly calls Ned, his _Captain._ Ned has made it across the sand with his crutch and he looks strong, like the quartermaster, and just as Muldoon knows Silver isn’t showing more of the truth than he has to, Billy knows how much every step across the sand hurts Ned.  
  
The nights havent been much easier than the days for him, with nightmares and tossing and turning in a way that made Billy ask Flint and Silver for permission to sleep down the carter cargo space. That’s the place you take to for fucking in daytime if you’re not prone to keep quiet in a bunk, but at night it’s abandoned and after a unanimous vote, Billy made a more steady quarter down there with a mattress made from bags stuffed with a load of wollen fabrics taken from a prize. The nights had become a little easier after that, with more space for the wounded body next to him and as a result, the days as well.  
  
Ned has made himself useful onboard, quietly and without any unnecessary comments helping out with anything from peeling potatos to mending clothes. He’s also taken care of weapon for the crew, making sure the work properly, especially after a hunt, and he’s never displayed a temper of the kind that made him infamous in Nassau. Billy wouldn’t say the Captain is a new man, but he’s definitely changed.  
  
Billy has paid with a part of his share from the prize in exchange for less duty while on shore. It’s understandable to most of the crew, because Ned is somehow a part of it now and proved himself not to be lazy or unhelpful and they all know to some extent that he’s constantly in pain and needs rest – something he’s not likely to have without Billy’s help. And contrary to what Ned might think, Billy’s brothers don’t look down on him for being wounded and loosing his ship and crew, but rather respect him for the way he’s never complained once, never refused a task and never acted like a Captain by expecting to be treated like one. Not many men in this world would’ve so easily accepted a loss of rank with a smile.  
  
And Billy is very grateful that, aside from himself, Silver and possibly the Captain and Dr. Howell, no one has shown to be capable of reading the unspoken pain, grief and anger that Ned has kept in a very tight leash ever since coming onboard. At nights he’s both wanted and not wanted to be held, the nightmares making him sweat, whimper and sometimes even crying in his sleep. The mattress has been better than the cramped bunk and most certainly a hammock but when not just one or two limbs but every single bone and muscle hurt, what you really need is to levitate and sleep on air.  
  
Billy has a plan though. He might not be Silver and definitely not Flint, but he’s not one to just take things as they come if he doesn’t have to and so he leaves his lover with his brothers for a while to make some errands in the market place.  
  
People here often reckognize him, of course. He’s Flint’s first mate, after all, and while Billy listens to news, gives some of his own and just generally has a look around to see if things are as usual (they are), he spends coin, fills his saddle bags and finally, rents a horse.  
  
He returns to the ship and takes onto his duties as a first mate again, because riding off with Ned in open daylight is not a good idea and while Ned sits in the open tent, still mending clothes, and with Betsy still seeking out his company, Billy forces his longings aside and throws himself into the task of looking over and restoring the supplies onboard with Silver and Flint.  
  
**Ned Low  
**“How’s your back?”  
“Upright, I think.”  
“No pain?”  
“None I can’t manage, doc.”  
“You’re listening far too much to Mr. Silver, Captain.”  
  
Dr. Howell is a decent man, for a pirate and a doctor. He suffers no nonsense though, and rather than resisting, Ned allows the hard but skilled fingers to trace along his spine again.  
  
“Well, at least it’s straightened out, Captain. But you’re stiff like a bloody plank and you’re not resting enough. Gotta lay down more, and change positions frequently to avoid pressure.”  
  
There are just too many innuendos in that and Ned chuckles.  
  
“Billy sent ye to scold at me, doc?”  
“I can scold at you perfectly well by myself, Captain, and your matelot needs a scolding himself.”  
“We’ve not made tha’ kind o’ arrangement.”  
“No, you just share bunks, rasions and spoils.”  
  
He has a point, the blunt doc, and Ned isn’t in the mood for arguing – or talking about his relationship with Billy. It’s not a pleasant thing to feel the doc’s fingers on his body either, but at least his quick.  
  
“Billy needs to support you while at shore, Captain. You can’t overuse the crutch or you’ll overstrain your knees and shoulders. And those hips…”  
“Wha’s the problem with them?”  
“We gotta let Joji put them back in place again, Captain.”  
“Tha’s not nece…”  
“Oh, don’t be daft, boy! You stay right where you are.”  
  
Dr. Howell doesn’t even wait for an answer before he leaves the tent and Ned forces the urge to be unhelpful away. He’s never taken kindly to being pushed around and the doc probably has a medical point and is just as blunt and stubborn with the rest of the crew so there’s no special treatment here, but Dr. Howell is a man and Ned doesn’t like _men_ in general, especially not outside bed.  
  
Men are cruel, selfish, unreliable and weak. Those aren’t thoughts Ned has shared with anyone because people would consider him even more of a mad man than he already is.  
  
When the doc returns with the crew’s master of torture and blades, Joji just gestures for Ned to lay down on his back, then turns him to the side and feels over the spine like the doc did, before he bends Ned’s right leg to the left and presses down forcefully against his hip. It cracks and Ned curses between gritted teeth, but after it’s done one more time on his other side and Joji has twisted Ned’s torso both ways, it feels better. Ned looks up at Joji, smiling.  
  
“Thank ye. It… It helps.”  
  
There’s a very small smile and a nod from the man who then leaves, most likely to sharpen his blade again. The doc pats Ned’s shoulder.  
  
“You have to let Billy help you more, Captain.”  
“I’m not that weak, doc.”  
“No one said you were, Captain, but you pirates are fucking idiots when it comes to healing properly, hoping that an injury will miraculously heal by itself if you pretend it doesn’t bother you. And that, my friend, is when I have to bring forth my saw. You let yourself heal, or you’ll end up bent like a fucking tree in storm and your spine in a bow even Joji wont be able to crack right.”  
  
Ned doesn’t answer because the doc is right and Ned knows little about the human body aside from how to cause it deliberate pain. He knows how to give pleasure too, yes, but as with the crutch over sand, it’s a skill he’s not as used to.  
**  
Billy Bones**  
“Ye brought bloody rocks or wha’?”  
  
Ned throws a suspicious glance at the filled saddle bags and Billy smiles.  
  
“Rocks, sand and sea water. Lets go.”  
  
Darkness is a cloak they’ve waited almost anxiously for, Billy no less than Ned, and in a hidden part of the beach, they cover themselves with the dark hoods that make them all but impossible to reckgnize at night. Ned still looks feral and he’s not pleased with riding in front of Billy in the saddle instead of behind. He’still a practical man though, and eager to get going.  
  
Billy doesn’t need to support him much at first, but the way to their secret hiding place is long when you can’t speed up and halfways Ned starts tilting, prompting Billy to lock him in his arms, with the reins in just one hand. The horse is a reliable filly who wont try any tricks and Ned doesn’t protest either. Billy nuzzles his neck, can’t hold back such affections any longer.  
  
“Not far now, love.”  
  
Ned knows the way, he doesn’t need the information, it’s Billy who feels the need to talk without really saying anything. Usually that’s not something he engages in, but he wants to sooth his lover and perhaps himself as well. When he finally spots the house, dark and forgotten in the darkness, it’s like coming home.  
  
He halts close to the door, sitting down and unlocking the door before more or less handling Ned like a noble lady who needs help to get down with all the skirts intact. His lover isn’t too heavy even if he’s so tired he can barely hold steady around Billy’s neck and without asking, Billy simply carries him inside. It’s dark in the room too, of course, and Billy places Ned gently on the old bed they’ve made good use of before. He kisses Ned’s forehead.  
  
“I’ll find us some light and then we’ll eat something.”  
“Aye.”  
  
Ned isn’t smiling but he’s already relaxing a little against the mattress and that’s enough for now. Billy goes to look to the horse first, then he finds the lamps, lights them as well as a fire. It’s calming to do these simple, everyday chores and Billy realises Ned’s not the only one who’s been tense in the last few days.  
  
They can’t tumble around like before and the memory of that time when they’d been parted for too long and all but clashed together here, is painfully obvious as they both try so hard to avoid it. Billy tends to the practical chores, of bringing in water, making sure the locks work, unpacking the food. Bread and chees, fruit and goat meat. Rum and wine. Some more fresh water in a pitch from the stream outside and Ned chuckles.  
  
“Ye’d make a good wife, Mr. Bones.”  
“Yeah? Just need a dress and grow my hair out, huh?”  
“A pair o’ tits wouldna hurt either.”  
  
It’s good that they can joke, that Ned’s dark sense of humor is still there and that he now looks at Billy with a smile from the bed. Billy has to turn away to not get lost in it, because it reminds so much of the face that looked back at him with a dreamy expression in his arms many weeks ago. It makes Billy think of touching Ned like before, of cupping him below the belt and feel the strain against fabrics, a swelling promise of pleasure rubbing impatiently against his hand.  
  
They love each other, it’s not even unspoken anymore, but Billy guesses love isn’t always enough. You still need to eat, drink, sleep and be allowed to forget. To pretend there’s nothing wrong when every single smile hurts.  
  
He cuts bread, some cheese, a couple of slices from the goat and puts on a plate along with some fruit. Two cups of wine.  
  
They eat in comfortable silence on the bed, the sound from the cracking fire enough as background to their misfortunes and successes, their longings and boundaries, strenghts and weaknesses. There are so many of all of them. Billy doesn’t primarly want to fuck Ned, he wants Ned to want to _want_ him again. That there’s pleasure to be the one being fucked, Billy has absolutely no doubts about and Ned is certainly not the first _male_ to fall apart with his cock deep inside him.  
  
How ever, Billy’s reasons for being so careful, not only with Ned, but with other males – not men, really, but not boys either – come from his own painful past. It took quite some time, he remembers, before he realised being fucked didn’t have to mean loosing a fight for dominance, or being humiliated or sore. Billy has shivered more than once from the sweet spot getting brushed, has clenched and squirmed in lust and pleasant surprise. He knows how to treat a man that’s either inexperienced or tense or sore and coin or no coin has never made a difference. Being a good, or at least decent and attentive fuck, is a pride too.  
  
“I can hear ye thinking…”  
  
Billy smiles, blushing, and he knows Ned knows he does. He puts their empty plates away and takes his lover’s hand. His matelot in all but the written contract.  
  
“I’m uh… A little tired, I suppose.”  
“Ye? _Tired?_ ”  
  
Ned raises his eyebrows and the teasing smile is there, the glimmer in the eye as well, if but for a second, and Billy swallows.  
  
“I’ve just missed being…. alone with you, I guess.”  
“Aye… So have I, mate.”  
“Mate?”  
“Mate _lot_ , then.”  
  
He can’t help it, can’t stop the feeling of relief and joy that word stirrs up within him, when addressed to _him_ by the man he knows he loves. He’s not sure how or why it happened, why their paths crossed or how well they even know one another, but they did and here they are. Billy strokes his knuckles over Ned’s cheek.  
  
“Guess _wife_ isn’t really… Long hair and dresses I think wouldn’t suit me, and I can’t grow tits, so…”  
  
Ned groans at the bad joke, but he smiles and the eye is bright.  
  
“Ye cook an’ clean well enough though.”  
  
Billy just laughs at that and it feels good to just have this more or less pointless talking, simply being together and undisturbed by other people and chores. He lays down now, so that they can face each other on the bed.  
  
“I don’t think there ever was a time when I thought about having a wife or being a husband. I was so young when I… left home…”  
  
Left. Was taken. That’s _his_ wound, one that has healed well enough but could probably be ripped open again if he let it. Ned looks at him with a gaze that seems so utterly _gentle_ , Billy is all about to change subject when the man smiles again.  
  
“I loved my wife… She was… she deserved better than a thief an’ gambler. But for some reason, she loved me, gave me two beautiful children, one o’ which lived. I wasn’t… dinnae seek the company o’ men until I left Boston…”  
  
Left because _she_ was taken. The wife Billy neither can nor would want to, compete with. He strokes Ned’s temple this time.  
  
“The past is the past, Ned. I loved my parents, you loved your wife but, as a wise man said to me: it’s best to live in the now.”  
“Tha’ man walked straight into the arms o’ Captain Flint’s famous first mate without a thought. Doesn’t seem like a wise man to me.”  
“Well, sometimes headless decisions turn out to be good for our hearts...”  
“Aye… I guess ye’re righ’… matelot…”  
  
**Ned Low  
**In the glow from the embers he can see his lover undress. Boots, belt, shirt. Leather cuffs and necklaces remaining on as are his breeches. Because Billy Bones somehow turned into a decent man in certain ways and it’s a peculiar thing but Ned couldn’t really imagine him differently by now. The boundaries seem all but burnt into him, clear lines he wont cross and they go beyond what Ned is used to when it comes to men, pirates or not.  
  
Ned mocked him about being a good wife, but the fact is, Billy would make a very good husband if he ever decides to… Matelotages aint marriages, after all, and falling in love may be easy but being married isn’t and Ned can’t imagine sharing Billy, either with another man nor a woman. But if Billy wants sons…  
  
“Where are you, lovey?”  
“Huh?”  
“You seem so far away…”  
  
His lover has sat down on the bed, looking at him with those eyes Ned sometimes can’t read. Blue and so serious. Ned smiles to hide his own discomfort.  
  
“I’m right here. Ye’re gonnae join me or jus’ sit there?”  
  
He gets a smile in return, the kind that isn’t pitying him, that along with that gaze makes Ned’s knees go weak. Weaker. It reminds a lot of when he first took Eliza’s bonnet off and how he felt when she looked at him like she saw beauty. It’s naked and raw, like blood and pain, unsettling and untamed like the sea and the freedom most men will never have, for they can’t even begin to imagine the prize to be paid – or the prizes to gain.  
  
Billy lets a lantern remain lit and then lays down next to him, pulling the thin cover up to their waists. Even next to a taller, broader man than Ned, Billy’s arms are those of a giant and sleeping in them has come to be the solace of Ned’s nights. In bed, at night, on the ship or here, he’s slept in these arms and felt what he supposes could be called _safe._ He’s never had that, not even when he was a small child still held by mother. She would protect him, but father was another kind of giant than Billy, with hands all but foreign to comfort.  
  
In a way, this language is more difficult to learn than letters and the only reason Ned is giving it a try, is due to Billy’s skills as a teacher. He cradles him, Ned’s smaller, still broken body nestled close to his chest and there’s love in those arms around him, those hands resting lightly and that mouth buried onto his sore neck.  
  
“I love you…”  
  
Those words, once so foreign, even with Eliza. Ned loved her and she loved him, but they didn’t really say it out loud like this. It was just something they knew and above all a thing uncommon to speak about for any of them. On Billy’s lips, they seem to come with ease and without expecting an answer. Still, Ned wonders what’s there to love. He wont tell the man that he’s wrong, after all, it’s Billy who knows what’s in his own heart, but Ned still can’t understand why.  
  
“I love ye too…”  
  
He answers because he must. Not due to expectations from Billy, but because it’s the truth. Ned loves him, helplessly much so, and he doesn’t lie. He’s not that kind of man. He might conceal, but never lie and maybe that’s part of why this man wants him to this extent. That there are no schemes, no uncertain plans, just a reckless but honest dive into the unknown, whether it’s the ocean or love. The warm breath sends the right kind of shivers down Ned’s spine and he longs for those hands to wander again, to travel further, not to the unknown but back home where they belong.  
  
He’s gotten a taste of how it feels to be loved by a man who’s not broken and that has stirred up this urge, this longing he didn’t know he carried, that he too might be able to feel whole.  
  
**Billy Bones  
**Everything he knows about love that didn’t come from his parents or brothers, has it’s roots in this half-blind, tortured animal who, if he lets you come close enough to see the layers fall off, will show you a man full of love. Of hate as well, but one that comes from being deprived of that love. Billy never felt the same from his losses, not to that extent, but he can understand parts of what drove his lover mad, almost to the brink of complete destruction.  
  
It’s not the rape and torture by strangers who broke his lover, but a loss of love and an incapability to find it within himself. There is so much love inside Ned, only it’s shown in a twisted mockery image of pain, of eternal revenge for the losses and with that, a growing self-hatred Billy just can’t stand watching without intevene. And what’s worse: his lover can’t reckognize it for what it is.  
  
Ned has turned around, they’re facing each other and every weakness shown, every broken piece of him is something wild that slowly, so very slowly, starts falling into place and Billy has never seen, held or felt any other form more beautiful than the one created from this wreckage.  
  
When he’s finally able to kiss him, it’s soft, tender and easier than he thought. He’s been afraid of overstepping, of throwing his lover back into another pit of agony again, but Ned remains in the now and Billy knows not to hurry anything in any way. It’s not always about the fucking, something he suspects quite many men somehow acknowledges to themselves, if not to others. It’s also about the shallow touches, the caresses and looks, the snug warmth of being close. It’s about feeling Ned’s breath remaining calm, his heartbeats rhythmic and steady against his palm.  
  
It’s about being allowed to love although you’re broken, in the shape you are right now and not the one you were or are hoping to become.  
  
Their kisses remain slow, not chaste but controlled either. No rough hands, not hasty movements. They have time, after all. The night, the hours where Ned can see without pain, has only just arrived and they’re alone. Billy can feel his need, the want they can’t just give in to as before and with strong, yet careful hands, he turns Ned around to have him lay on top of him. There’s no resistance, just a small sigh and Ned lets himself become a human blanket, face buried in the crook of Billy’s neck.  
  
He lets palms sliding across his back, never below his waiste but Ned wont have that, wont admit a border neither of them wanted there in the first place, so he scoots up and moves an arm backwards, making Billy’s hesistant hands stay on his lower back, then his ass.  
  
“Ned…?”  
“Please don’ ask if I’m sure…”  
“Just let me know what you want, love.”  
“Ye. I wan’ _ye_ , Billy…”  
  
It’s not an answer that helps, there’s no real guidance in it, but Billy has missed this so much, the closeness, the feeling of his man’s body in every way and he breaks the boundary Ned wants him to and cups his buttocks outside the breeches.  
  
There’s no whimper of pain, no sudden freezing in movements. Ned moves slow and soft, undulating on top of him and Billy moans as they rub together. They wont be disturbed this time and this is no aftermath of a nightmare, maybe that will help, Billy thinks as his body raises goodbumps from the sweet pressure.  
  
He lets Ned set the pace, just following this wild thing into the hunt and it makes Billy feel strangely weak himself, not physically, but due to how he just can’t give in to what he wants and Jesus Christ, how he wants this man.  
  
_His_ man.  
  
The thought makes him bite his lower lip, he’s getting wetter by the second, his breeches slick and he just wants to rip them open, then Ned’s, but he must let the wild thing set his own path, he’s not one to be tamed or trapped and _his man_ is not a beast but an animal, feral and loving in his very own manner and to be loved by him is a thing Billy didn’t know was possible.  
  
**Ned Low**  
_Live in the now…_ Once he could do that. No yesterday, no tomorrow, just the present’s deep red thrill. The battles, the pain, the blood and screams. It made him forget, made him feel powerful again. The useless husband and father who tried to love but in the end had his wife and son killed from it. Even when he wanted to show love, it turned into ashes.  
  
He’s felt love and that’s why Billy can get through that red veil, cross those piles of ashes and pin him down without force. That’s why Ned willingly sits atop of him, grinding down hard because _that_ physical pain is long since gone and all but a memory and the pressure is delicious. It speaks of being one, of erasing the distance as much as two people can and Ned _wants_ , wants it more than anything right now, but he can’t.  
  
“Would you fuck me, Ned?”  
“Wha’?”  
  
He must look as surprised as he sounds, because Billy grins beneath him.  
  
“Is there any rule about who can or can’t do the fucking that I wasn’t aware of?”  
“No… But I thought ye weren’t into tha’ yerself.”  
  
His lover rolls his eyes.  
  
“If you’re refering to what I said during our first night together, then please remember I’d not been with a man in a very long time. And that I didn’t know you.”  
“Fair enough.”  
  
Ned remembers too and the idea of fucking Billy is in no way offputting. But there’s a problem.  
  
“I cannae hold ye up, or take ye like this…”  
  
He squirms for reinforcement and Billy nods.  
  
“I know. Come here, love.”  
  
Ned feels more intrigued than scared now, it’s a thrilling thought, to bury himself deep into his lover but when Billy shows him how to cradle him, Ned must laugh.  
  
“Lovey, I’m not a big man. It looks ridiculous.”  
“So?”  
  
Billy is serious and by God, Ned would really want to, but he can’t support Billy like this and again, his lover gentles him.  
  
“You’re the first man I’ve wanted like that in God knows how many years, Ned. It’s been so long since I had anyone in that way…”  
  
This man and his blue eyes will be the death of him and Ned finds that he has no objections to that. Not anymore. Billy has a blush on his cheeks, his eyelashes oddly lowering but not in a seductive manner. He’s insecure too and swallows.  
  
“You’re the first man I’ve _wanted_ to, Ned, but…”  
  
Not the first he had. Was _forced_ to have. And even with his weak vision of one blind and one half-seeing eye, Ned understands what his lover isn’t saying. They’ve talked about their pasts, not all of them, but enough to get a picture. And where Ned’s childhood was in angry red and Billy’s in soothing blue, that changed once Billy was pressganged.  
  
Ned knows exactly what an easy prey a fourteen-year-old boy is on a ship like that. He knows it because he’s stopped men in the act a few times, shooting them point blank because rape has only ever been tolerated when done to a grown man. And so despite being the wrong target, Ned can’t find it in himself to be that angry with the man who did this to him because in _his_ mind, there was a good reason. A woman deserving a revenge.  
  
That, how ever, wasn’t the case with Billy, of that Ned is certain. His lover looks pained and when he opens his mouth, then closing it again, Ned just shakes his head.  
  
“Ye don’ have to say anything more, if ye don’ wannae. I understand. Well… parts o’ it.”  
  
The chains stopping you from escape. The weakness. The pain shattering your body like sharp stabs that can’t kill, just hurt. Over and over. A body forcing it’s way into you. Ned doesn’t want to be the one reminding his lover’s body of that wound. He swallows.  
  
“Ye’ve ever wanted to try, at all…? Not jus’ ‘cause it’s me…”  
  
Billy shrugs and it’s an almost amusing gesture considering the situation.  
  
“Haven’t given it too much thought, really. But uhm…”  
  
The blush is deepening and Ned feels that tug in his heart again, the one he now has a name for. Billy looks down.  
  
“If you’d want to… you could have me in that way. I… I trust you, love. I know you’d never hurt me and… from what I’ve seen it can be very pleasant.”  
  
**Billy Bones  
**The way Ned is so different from other men he’s come to know, is sometimes almost shocking. Billy leans into his arms, assuming a position he actually never has with a man – or woman. Ned has nothing of Silver’s manipulations or Flint’s barriers. Neither does he have Vane’s almost annoying easiness, Bonny’s callousness or the swagger of Rackham. He’s just not comparable.  
  
His eye is gleaming in the dark, but there’s a warmth, an almost uncertain playfulness about it and when Billy is sans breeches, laid back and just waiting, Ned leans over him, with a little support from Billy’s arms.  
  
Billy has never used his strenght like this before. He wants to hold his lover up, to support him while still being pliant. Ned is a little stiff at first and Billy slides his hands up to his shoulders.  
  
“I’ve got you. Just let me hold you up, alright?”  
  
Up, not down. It’s not easy to find comfort in this world, let alone love and trust, but with a little struggle, Ned becomes heavier against Billy’s thighs. He can feel the hard cock rub slowly against his crack, a thing he never expected to want but Billy find himself excited, almost impatient to know how it can feel when it’s good. To see if Ned can unravel him as Billy has unraveled him.  
  
The pot of oil is near, strategicly placed within hands reach from Ned and Billy follows him with his eyes when a finger dips into it and slowly starts circling around his puckered flesh, tickling the entrance and Ned chuckles when looking up.  
  
“Ye look surprised already…”  
  
Billy swallows, the tickles makes him clench, he wants more already and he lets out a small sound when he’s being entered, very carefully.  
  
This is something else entirely than he remembers. It’s a building sensation, slow and controlled. Ned increases his motion gradually, on knuckle, two knuckles, all the way in.  
  
“Ye like it?”  
“Yes…”  
  
He’s too focused on the sweetness of this to care for a more vivid explanation and his lover doesn’t need one. Ned pumps him slowly, lets him get used to the feeling and then pulls out, retrieves the pot and then there are two fingers, just as slow but in one smooth movement and Billy moans, starts pressing forward onto the hand and no words are needed.  
  
It doesn’t hurt at all, his body is open and slick and Billy barely realises he’s undulating against the fingers pumping harder into him. Then, the angle suddenly changes and Billy whimpers loudly because there it is, the sweet spot that made Ned writhe and cry out beneath him and God, it feels so good, so unexpectedly good and Ned’s not even touching his cock. He keeps fucking Billy with his fingers for a rather long time, getting him used to the feeling and when Billy finally manages to look up, he can see Ned looking at him with something akin to awe.  
  
Billy puts his hand over Ned’s sore neck and carefully pulls him closer to kiss him. It’s soft, a contrast to the fingers and he entangles a hand in the unruly hair, nudging the cheek to reach the ear, nibbling on the lobe.  
  
“Fuck me, Ned. Please, love…”  
  
Ned bends down to the crook of Billy’s neck while reaching for more oil and then Billy feels the pressure onto his hole from his lover’s cock. He opens up at first, lets Ned inside but then it stops. Billy isn’t worried though, he trusts his man, knows he’s patient and he feels the palm brushing soothingly over his stomach.  
  
“Relax… Ye wan’ me to stop?”  
“No… God no…”  
  
He feels Ned’s lips brushing over his own and they kiss again while Ned keeps still, letting him get used to the girth and then slides a little further down.  
  
He’s a skilled lover, attentive and caring and Billy feels like he’s being caressed like a kind of treasure, he’s not being fucked but made love to and yes, he’s done it to Ned but to experience it as in being the receiver, being pliant and trusting like this as just not the same. Every time Ned goes deeper Billy can feel his body relaxing, softening around him and the only hard thing remaining is his own cock, filled to the point where it could burst from a single touch and the wetness smearing his belly.  
  
“Ye’re feeling good, lovey?”  
“Very…”  
  
It almost breaks him, hearing Ned calling him _lovey._ This is not a fuck, it’s lovemaking and not just from Billy’s side of it. The poorly cut and tangled hair is falling onto his face as Ned slides out and then thrusts back and its so much better than Billy had imagined, even with the evidence in form of Ned’s blissed out face so many nights ago.  
  
He can see the scars and bruises, the cuts and thinned out flesh, can see the bones too prominent under damaged skin and the small hairs on the still strong arms holding him, the iron fists not yet back to their former strenght but a steady, gentle grip. Every form of his lover carrying endless beauty and Billy can but grasp for it, hold onto it as Ned thrusts into him and makes him forget all that’s outside their coupling.  
  
**Ned Low**  
Eliza was not a virgin and he never cared. Having her for the first time was sweet and beautiful and she enjoyed it, he made sure she did. On their wedding night, she was teasing him endlessly about how gentle he was, that he was a domestic cat in the shape of an alley cat. He took off her bonnet and saw her hair for the first time, cursed at the lacings on her bodice and she laughed and told him to just cut the damn thing.  
  
He recalls how he wanted her to feel something more than the street rat he was outside their chamber and when he’d made her wetter and impatient from his tongue and fingers for a while, he chuckled at her curses, her loud wanting and when he entered her for real, she was dripping and squeezing hard around his length.  
  
Now he’s inside this man he loves in a way he hasn’t loved another man – or woman – before. It’s not the same as with Eliza, but it’s closer to her than to the frankly quite sparse line of lovers he’s had over the years – men or women. He loves how Billy is loosening and loosing himself underneath him, how his pleasure is written all over his face and body and how he whimpers when Ned brushes hard up onto that sweet spot.  
  
Ned refuses to think about why he feels this urge to pull his lover closer, to almost cradle and rock him in his weakened arms. Billy looks lost to the world, gasping with eyes closed and his head dropped back onto Ned’s shoulder. He’s relaxed but so tight around Ned’s cock, squeezing wet warmth that makes his blood boil, his loins tensing from the sweet pleasure he honestly didn’t think Billy would want to offer him.  
  
“Ned… Jesus, Ned…”  
  
The anticipation, their unwanted abstinence will make this ride a short one, Ned knows that and with the way Billy breathes out his name like it’s prayer, he shudders and buries his face onto his lover’s shoulder. He can’t reach down to stroke that cock the way he’d want to without loosing balance and he simply takes Billy’s hand and moves it down, nibbling his shoulder.  
  
“Touch yerself, lovey…”  
  
He lets his own hand rest onto Billy’s as the man simply obeys, eyes still closed and Ned kisses the side of his neck.  
  
“Look at me, Billy. Look at me, my love…”  
  
They move together, eyes searching each other out as scouts for lanterns at night. Focal points in the abyss, landmarks on unchartered seas, drops of water on barren desert plains. They’re both lead astray, lost souls and fallen men who no longer reckognize who they once were behind masks of war, legends and every broken form they’ve come to consist of.  
  
They’re looking for a new reflection in the other man’s eyes, thirsting for the voice that will whisper softly: _be still now my soul, no more running, no more fighting.  
  
You’re home._  
  
And as he whimpers softly onto Billy’s neck, finding a lover’s relief once again, the burning sun has not yet risen. It’s still but a morning star.


End file.
